


Insanity

by Lady_Anput



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Basically all the characters are fair game, Multi, just a collection of drabbles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-01-28 18:24:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12612652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Anput/pseuds/Lady_Anput
Summary: Basically all of the drabbles I work on for Transformers will go in here. It's a 100 Drabble Challenge, and I'm curious how far I can get in it. There will be all sorts of pairings and content, anything from fluff to smut to angst, and canon characters as well as a ton of OC's. Each chapter will have a brief 'what's what' in the notes.





	1. Introduction; Knight x Updraft

**Author's Note:**

> All fics center around a centralized universe idea; Seekers are no better than feral animals and the Prime has passed law to make them into little better than housepets and house guardians for the grounders. For some, this is just fine, for others, the law doesn't sit well and something needs to be done about it.
> 
> The drabbles will, unfortunately, bounce back and forth as far as timeline goes, but I'll try to help make sense of it as I go for anyone reading and enjoying them. As for the first drabble, here's your info;
> 
> Introduction; Knight (OC) x Updraft (OC)  
> Rating; T

Corruption. It was all the Enforcer seemed to deal with anymore, and it was beginning to grate on his last nerve. Granted, he couldn't very well fight the system; no he enjoyed his job far too much to push very hard, to try and right everything. Instead, Knight kept his head down, and did his job. Nine days out of ten, he remained home in Praxus, and the corruption was far less obvious. Praxians had no care for it, they kept to themselves and most of the ridiculous rules that had been implemented hadn't affected them directly as it were. Most of the laws put out recently affected something far more ancient.

Seekers.

The demons of the skies, they were little more than glorified guard dogs for families. Most thought it prestigious to own turbo foxes, or buy their sparklings a pet cyberkitten, but to truly protect ones' family and belongs, a seeker was usually bought. Cybertronian law wrote them off as little better than animals; they were incapable of being as civilized as the majority of races on Cybertron. So instead, they were captured, and forced to work for the 'grounders', and that usually meant being live in maids. In most cases, they were used as a means to get a sparkling, without either parent being hindered from their work. 

The very thought turned Knight's tanks. How many times had he been dispatched someplace, and had to ignore a mistreated seeker just because of laws that didn't allow them any protection? They were property, nothing more, and therefor there was no reason to tend to them, not by common means. He'd run into a few that had had their wings clipped, so to speak, and altered so flight was inaccessible to them. Those were the cases he'd usually been dispatched to and was there to put down a rogue seeker; a seeker who had killed its owners, and was a risk to society. It was the main reason he hated being dispatched to Iacon so often, even just as backup, because it was far too common to have reports of rogue seekers.

A hand was raised, rubbing tiredly at optics that had been focused on datapads far too long, and his doorwings lowered just a hair. How many hours had it been since his shift was, technically, over? Far too many. Yet here the Enforcer sat, pouring over reports of rogue seekers, of seeker registration paperwork, looking for anything that would help him make more sense of the predicament, or even just something to better understand the winged beings. Surely they weren't as mindless as the Prime had made them seem. 

Sentinel Prime had listed open bounties, approved and bearing the Prime seal, for seekers to be captured. Mercenaries were, basically, the only ones who took those tasks though. A flying city, Vos as he had heard it called, was far too tough to get to by conventional means. The pay was beyond decent, but the risk of getting, and successfully bringing a seeker before the Prime, was the true risk, and Knight just fought back a sneer at the thought. Even animals, if that's truly what they were, deserved to have peace in their home, in the one place they thought they could stay safe.

It was no small amount of irritation, however, when his comm.link sprang to life in a fury of commotion. A request for back up, armed back up, to report to Iacon. Something about the calm voice, however, with such a request, had Knight springing into action. He hadn't thought of going home just yet - and he did, admittedly, regret it - but he was moving to help. He was closest to those coordinates in Iacon, he could be there to help defuse the situation before it escalated much quicker. The last thing the department needed was a publicized issue.

\-----

The heavy rev of an engine was hard to ignore, especially the scream of tires that followed as the black truck tore through downtown Iacon. The coordinates had been given, and sure enough he could hear the sounds of a seeker - he couldn't tell if that was wings clicking on a wall, or the chittering of a glitched vocalizer - both made his tanks churn at what it could mean. A side door popped open, the turbowolf, a deep blue in color, hopping from the seat and waiting for its handler to transform and give the signal. Knight's doorwings flared wide once he stood up - such an intimidating figure, the wings had him favored with Seekers until they realized they were false wings, something he couldn't help, but the force had made him grow use to using them to such an advantage.

Chaos - the wolf had been with him for so long, it was almost like having a partner of his own, and he'd done oddly well calming seekers and sparklings alike in his time - followed along behind him as Knight moved to push ahead of those there. The fear of seekers was ridiculous, and his doorwings only flared higher at hearing the noises in the home continue. The next thing that hit him, once he was close enough to break through into the home, was the scent of oil - heavy and thick in the air - and no sooner had he crossed into the living room, pistol lowered but ready, optics quick to glance about behind the visor - the black glass thankfully hiding bright red optics that took in everything - and saw the source of the noise and the smell in the corner.

Two mechs lay face down in a puddle of their own oil, oozing beneath them into the carpet, and there was a seeker, so thin and scared, huddled in the corner. Looking over the mechs, he sighed internally at seeing the distinct marks of a seeker's claws, having torn through the mechs far too easily - had these owners been foolish enough to leave a seeker with their claws - no it was a her, he could see that now in the slight frame as she seemed to turn her attention to him, apprehension clear. He raised one hand, motioning Chaos to keep the others back out of the home. If this was a rogue seeker they didn't need to be risked...not yet.

"Were these mechs your owners? Where is your handler?" The noise had been a glitched vocalizer as he suspected, a ping going out to the medics on standby to get closer and hope to fix it once she was sedated. Her wings flickered behind her, still full and proud - so the family hadn't clipped her either, odd... - and the seekeress adamantly shook her head, a hiss as fangs were bared at the mechs on the floor, before she shuffled where she was standing. Instantly he was on high alert as she pulled something out of the corner, cradling it close to her chassis in her claws - ever so carefully - as bright blue optics peered up to Knight.

There was a pause, before her body turned to give a glimpse of the sparkling she'd hidden behind her, against her own cockpit to keep it safe. The sparkling, small as it was, was surprisingly asleep, looking perfectly at ease, even cradling a claw close to it as it napped. It drew Knight by surprise, as he glanced from the sparkling to the Seeker, and suddenly things came into a glaringly obvious picture, "...Home invasion?" He asked quietly, and the seeker nodded quickly, gesturing that yes, he had gotten it, with her free hand. Knight only frowned further though, "...you realize the call came in for a rogue seeker because of the noise. You couldn't risk leaving for that same thing, so you tried to make noise to bring us in?" Another adamant nod, "....you realize I still have to take you in, by Prime's laws, yes?" A slower, sadder nod and she looked down, a claw brushing over the sparklings helm, a quiet hum there, the most she could manage with her vocalizer, "Or was it all to protect the sparkling and make sure it got back to its parents?" 

She looked to him, meeting his gaze dead on, and Knight couldn't deny that it was terrifying in its own way. He could see why people would fear these people, what they were capable of, what he'd seen for a true rogue seeker was enough to turn most away from fighting one, yet here everyone kept them as pets. But she just gave a firm nod of her head, standing as her wings folded behind her carefully, almost regally. She seemed to think before moving forward, slow enough to not have him thinking he was her next target. 

Instead a claw pointed to the datapad on the counter, carefully tapping it on to show the information for the family. A pause as he looked to the sparkling in the seeker's hold, "...Jazz?" A bright smile, pretty in its own way, as she nodded excitedly, pointing to the sparkling, "And this is the contact information for his parents?" Another nod, and she moved to very carefully hand Jazz over, so he wouldn't wake up. Knight hadn't even seen the medic slip in, cautious in moving to take the sparkling, wary of the seeker, who just lowered her wings and offered her hands out as if knowing what came next, claws pointed down.

A quick glance at the datapad, skimming for information, before he found the name he hoped was right, "I'm so sorry, Updraft. I'm Enforcer Knight, you'll be coming with me," A sad nod, watching the sparkling be taken away to be checked on before his parents were notified, and Updraft went quietly, without any issue as Knight led her outside, stasis cuffs locked over her claws. This was too easy...something wasn't right with the whole thing, a feeling he couldn't shake. It wasn't right to punish this seeker for this, she wasn't truly rogue, she'd been protecting her family but...the Prime's laws were just that.

If only he could smuggle her to Praxus somehow, where the Prime didn't have as much a presence, and Sentinel rarely came out there himself...It was a far hope, but it was hope none the less.


	2. Complicated; Tarn & Sicario

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A seekeress taken for who only knows what, whatever will happen when Vos' own Guardians find out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little snippet introduces the DJD _before_ they were the DJD! A bit of personal headcanon'ing for this AU; Tarn and his goonies were actually Guardians of Vos (the Sentinels' Trine) and were there to chase hunters out of the Fliers' city to keep them safe. Unorthodox, absolutely. But it works, to an extent.
> 
> Sicario would be likened most to an Opera singer from Earth cultured (One of the highly revered ones) and she only goes out of Vos for performances (Usually with her guardians if they can manage it for an evening)

Wings flicked - the femme unsettled, nervous to be in Praxus of all places for the concert. Granted, Praxus wasn’t known for housing her kind like the rest of the planet, but there was still a worry of what Sicario would hear from their thoughts. Being a telepath wasn’t always the best of things, but she had been promised she’d be safe, that she’d see a threat coming. Granted, the entirety of the Sentinels were there - as if Tarn would miss a _single_ performance of hers - but it wasn’t a guarantee. All five of them could be far too easily distracted, though Vos and Kaon were usually very attentive of where she went. Sometimes it was a curse, but she couldn’t be happier.

The mirror before her showed a femme she hardly knew, yet every time she stepped onto a stage here, it was this odd appearance that greeted her. Fitting with Praxian customs, her wings had been draped in light silver meshes, soft to the touch and complementing the cranberry colored seekeress. The meshes stayed to her wings, which had angled down far more like a skirt than true seeker wings, a smaller pair over the top of them, allowing the careful details of purple to be seen - Tarn’s own little possessive touch that she thought was endearing, despite the other Sentinels insisting she was crazy.

That mech was the only reason she felt safe coming down here, knowing he and his trine, unorthodox as they were, would be near as well. It was a comfort she couldn’t express enough to him, they all knew she wasn’t a fighter. It was the reason she’d declined any offers of Trining, she refused to to fight, not unless there was absolutely no other reason, and even then she just used her claws to disable and run.

Even still, she jumped when the heavy hand was on her shoulder, drawing bright gold optics up, looking at Tarn through the mirror, a smile quick to show, “My apologies, love, I didn’t hear you,” She murmured, a hand resting over his, mindful of the claws she had, filed and polished. It would never do for the performer to look less than her best.

There was a smile on the massive seeker behind her, leaning down to kiss the side of her helm, “My darling songbird,” A murmured greeting they were both accustomed to, “I..may have to leave briefly. Hunters were spotted on the outskirts of Vos, Borealis is requesting we return to chase them off,” He looks upset, a frown there as he catches her chin, tilting her head to actually look at him, not through the mirror, “Do you want one of them to stay? You know we can function without a full five…”

A smile is on her lips, a chuckle pressed forward when the crown of her helm is kissed once more, “Darling, it’s fine, I know Vos comes before myself. I’ll be fine, it’s Praxus,” She’s trying to convince herself more than him at this rate, “it’s just as good as Vos, the people respect us here, they know the difference.” 

That doesn’t hide the fear she can just barely keep from him, suddenly glad she has the telepathy and not him. His mind is uneased, but there’s loyalty to home first, a loyalty she wouldn’t dare put herself in front of. It’s why, when there’s a kiss pressed to her forehead, a smile and a promise to have someone record the performance there to ease his worry as he steps back, before he’s gone. She can feel the absence of the minds; Tesarus, Kaon, Vos, Helix, and Tarn. 

Sicario doesn’t worry for the Sentinels, no, she feels no fear they’ll fall, instead she almost pities whoever was foolish enough to be so close to Vos. No, there’s no fear in her spark, not for them. Her own unease is merely forced away under a pretty enough smile as one of the Praxians came to get her, ushering her out towards the stage for her performance. It was just a normal night for her, and she’d be back singing in Vos tomorrow before she knew it - just had to get through tonight.

And it’s what forced her up to where she was supposed to stand, having asked the patron for a copy of the performance - explaining a friend had to step away and miss it. They were all too happy to oblige, and she could only hope Tarn would approve of a recording, knowing he wouldn’t return in time. 

Her wings flared as best they could under the meshes, and once the orchestra had started the melody, she lost herself in the song. Sicario wasn’t one for bright, flashy lights and a club, no, she was more of the slow, classical songbird, regal and formal - how many times had she sat, seated with a harp back home, to croon to the Sentinels and ease them to sleep for the evening?

But it had made her lax, inattentive to her surroundings. A guard let down, and no sooner had she finished, given her bow before turning to head backstage to wait for the clear that she could leave, things had gone considerably sideways.

Feet stumbled as someone bumped alongside her, hands quick to reach out and steady her - a panic there alone at suddenly realizing the trio was there - and a second set was quick to disable her vocalizer, a knife held there in case there was a choice to bring it back online and scream for help. The third, however, had held those claws close, keeping her from lashing out, and their ruckus was hidden under the din of the hall, the orchestra starting up another bout of music to placate the audience with their dinner, with their evening.

Sicario’s optics flickered, instantly cursing the fact her comm was always disconnected for performances - she never hooked it back up until she was back in her room, in private, and destressing. Her mind lashed out, but there was a panic at feeling such a blank answer - they _knew_ and had come prepared, an irritation, but instead her wings trembled, lowering and clicking against each other before she forced them still.

“There’s a good birdie,” A quiet chuckle, and they were moving to keep her away from the eyes of the Praxians - these three were no better than mercenaries, how had they gotten into the Hall? One possessed the Praxian doorwings, but it looked more convenience - a nice enough paint job to fit in perhaps? 

She toned out the others, optics flat. A set up, the Sentinels were after a decoy, and if she had caught those thoughts correctly before she’d been shut out, she’d be in Iacon by tonight. Sicario was forced out the door, stumbling into the alleyway behind it and looking at the Transport, with its door flung open.

Forced into it, a silent scream was there, wings suddenly tense and flared when part of her crest was broken off, her head having caught the roof of it. Still pushed into the cage that sat in the Transport, she barely had enough time to try and catch herself on the floor, before crashing into the bars. 

The seekeress had long since ignored them, curled down in one of the corners, not even chancing a glance up when she saw a thinner mech slide in - the same one with doorwings that no doubt got his goons into the establishment - to watch over her as they left.

So intent on ignoring them all, she almost missed the little black cassette-kitten in the corner of the cage, it’s red optics brightening when it saw her notice it. What Sicario wasn’t expecting, was a mind to reach out and brush hers, a gentler presence, and a voice that whispered across her mind.

 _’We’ll do our best to right this wrong. Soundwave will make sure of it.’_ And she caught a name whispered across after, _Ravage_ he was called….She wanted nothing more than to scoop him up and cradle him close, to feel some semblance of safety - how rare were telepaths? - but at the same time she was terrified this Soundwave was one of her captors, intent on lowering her guard further, before they handed her off at an auction.

Instead of warring with her thoughts, she turned her back to both of them, wings tucked as close as she could, and just prayed she could make it out alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for how sporadic this one came out; I kept leaving and coming back to it, and I took too long to write it I fear...But this sets up for an idea that I have far later in the '100 Drabbles' challenge that this more or less is. All of them will fit the same AU, but not necessarily a given time line ^^" Just keep that in mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Again this is just 1 of 100 I plan on typing up and throwing here. Some will be longer than others, but hopefully I can get through it! I hope to have it done within a years worth of time! Any feedback is appreciated, but I mainly just wanted a place to keep the drabbles at ^^"


End file.
